I came home after months of being away at college.
New paint, new furniture, new decorations. But nothing changes a space more than time away from it after years of its monotony. I returned to my parents house this week. Less than three months of college have gone by, and yet nothing is the same. Everything is where I left it, my clothes in my drawers, my belongings and trinkets on my desk or in my bedside table or in boxes on the floor. But I've changed. It's all smaller now. Every year we make pizzelles. Big waffle cookies with a hint of licorice. They're smaller this year. Tiny to how I remember them. The counters are low, the ceilings and walls claustrophobic. I never fit on my twin size mattress anyway, but now it shows. I feel it. Months ago, everything used to feel bigger at night. I'd cower under the safety of the sheets, pulling away as I surveilled the shadows in the corner, scanning my mind for scraps of courage I could bind together into enough guts to tiptoe across the hallway. The open door immediately to ...